


Team Free Will - One Shots

by alloftheorangejuice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Maybe sexy times, Short Fics, Team Free Will, oneshots, short stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alloftheorangejuice/pseuds/alloftheorangejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're caught in a bad situation, but Team Free Will shows up to help out! Unfortunately, it might not be enough or fast enough...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Don't Have to Go It Alone

                A hot crack of agony splintered up her spine as she hit the barn wall and crumpled to the ground. The pain was immediate and blinding, and she quickly drew a hand to her left shoulder. It felt loose. Disconnected…

                “Ridiculous. Women shouldn’t be hunting, my dear… my dear—“

                “Y/N,” she said defiantly.

                “Y/N…”

                She looked up at the man in the dim light of the moon that filtered in through the high windows. He was dressed in a full suit, occupying the middle-aged body of a Wall-Street wannabe. His cheeks were hollowed out with black shadows.

                “It’s a shame you didn’t come alone. If you did, we could spend a lot more… “ he drifted off, bending down to lift his blade up her neck slow enough and deep enough to earn a trickle of red that dripped down over her collarbone, “…time together…”

                The panic shot through her. She _had_ come alone. Which meant… _no_ …

                Her eyes quickly flicked up to the barn loft, teeming with hay, and spotted a shadowy figure with something in their hand, gleaming in the night glow.

                “See?” the demon said, not taking his eyes off Y/N. “Should have come alone.”

                The demon immediately spun around just as the silhouetted figure jumped down from the loft. The figure landed on Wall-Street and they hit the ground _hard_ , tumbling in a pile of grunts and curses.

                Y/N heard a _clang_ and then they were separated, both holding their respective blades, hunched and ready to leap at each other.

                It was then the moonlight provided just the right angle to see the attacking figure. It cast a bright beam of light across his face. A bright blue eye and a mess of darkened hair were visible in the night.

                “Cas!” Y/N cried out.

                “Y/N, stay there. Are you alright?” Castiel growled.

                Castiel’s baritone voice sent a shiver up her spine. It made her feel… something that felt inappropriate given the situation, honestly, but also made her feel infinitely guilty. He had followed her here and was now in danger because of her poor judgement.

                “I’ve taken demons before, Castiel,” Y/N said.

                “Listen to her… _Castiel_ ,” the demon mocked, dancing in a side-step circle with the angel. “She knows how to take out the baddies.”

                Y/N flushed with color. It’s true, this demon had been much craftier than she’d anticipated, but she was experienced in taking down monsters. She should have been able to smite him without assistance, and now she was being mocked by her prey and what felt like _chastised_ by one of her greatest friends.

                But she was also in a lot of pain and wondering what she could do to help get them out of this situation. She fingered her shoulder joint and felt a tender pressure point. She hissed in pain.

                “Come on, Castiel. Come take care of the big, mean demon, won’t you?”

                And just as the demon started to laugh, Castiel launched at him.

                They were evenly matched. Clangs echoed in the barn as their blades zinged across each other and caused orange sprays of sparks to illuminate the night. Y/N stayed crouched as they fought, watching them step in and out of each other’s paths. But as she watched, she realized how truly slow Castiel’s motions were. And as they fought their way into the streams of moonlight, she saw the glint of shining red that streaked Castiel’s neck.

                _No_.

                Then, just as quickly as Y/N was thrown into the wall, Castiel was thrown against a wooden pillar. A crack echoed in the night and the demon brought a blade up to Castiel’s throat.

                “No!” Y/N screamed.

                “Quiet, sunshine. It’ll all be over soon,” the demon said.

                Wall-Street flipped his blade into a fisted grip, but before he could reel forward to sink his blade into the angel’s chest, he screamed. And light flickered in his eyes.

                Dean’s blade was buried to the hilt into the back of the demon as it slowly dropped to its knees and flickered out of existence.

                “Dean!” Y/N shouted.

                Dean looked down at the dead man, his blade still embedded in his spine, and then looked up to Castiel, who was breathing heavily with his back still up against the barn post.

                “No worries, Y/N,” he copped as he gave the angel little smirk. He turned to Y/N with the same look. “Got your back, trainee.”

                And just when Y/N was about to smile, about to feel like she could laugh it off despite the horrendous condescension of her friends, she saw the same glimmer in the night—the gleaming steak of a sharp blade on the other side of the barn.

                “Behind you!” Y/N called and she scrambled to her feet.

                “No!” Castiel shouted.

                Dean swirled around and dodged the blade, but it came back fast to slice him across the cheek. Dean hissed loudly and Castiel lunged forward to took a stab with his own blade but missed completely. The demon, much stronger than the first, threw Castiel across the expansive space into a pile of hay.

                Dean made a lunge for his blade, but couldn’t pull it out before the demon made another attack. It swiped and swiped and swiped, causing Dean to do anything he could to avoid the sharp blade.

                And all Y/N could think was _I led them here. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault_.

                Y/N watched as the demon chased Dean across the barn and as Castiel struggled to regain his footing and stand up.

                The demon dove after Dean until he was cornered on either side by wood, peeling with red paint that could have mistaken for years of blood-splatter.

                “Such a shame. You know, if you bozos don’t come alone, what makes you think we would?” the demon taunted.

                “We _didn’t_ ,” Sam said.

                The demon spun around at the same time Sam jabbed his blade forward. Sam’s blade landed on its mark, straight into the demon’s chest.

But the demon’s blade didn’t hit Sam. It hit Y/N, who had been ready with Dean’s weapon in her trembling fist, and who was now barely standing upright, a sharp, jagged knife positioned straight through her waist.

                “No!” Team Freewill seemed to yell at once.

                Sam pulled his blade out as the demon shriveled to the ground. Dean lunged to catch Y/N as her knees buckled beneath her.

                “Y/N!” Castiel managed to yell as he staggered across the barn to her side.

                Dean cradled Y/N in his arms, holding her head upright against his bicep to help keep her conscious, alert, aware.

                “Y/N, Y/N,” Dean cooed. “Hey, _hey_.”

                Y/N’s eyes batted quickly as Sam dropped to his knees to remove the blade from her stomach. He quickly shuffled off his jacket and moved to wrap her tightly to stop the bleeding.

                “Sam?” Y/N said.

                “I’m right here, Y/N, I’m right here,” Sam responded, reaching up a hand to cradle Y/N’s cheek. His calloused thumb felt rough against her cheekbone, but she savored every moment none-the-less.

                “What do you think you’re doing, Y/N?” Dean asked.

                “I asked you,” Castiel started, “I asked you where you were going. I didn’t want you to go it alone.”

                “I—“ Y/N started. “I’m sorry, I just…”

                Y/N’s heart flickered. She could feel her vision start to cloud, her head start to feel like it was floating away into the ether. _Was this death?_

                “Hey, hey. Y/N, come on,” Dean pressed.

                “I just… I didn’t want you to have to feel like, like I always needed you. I wanted to be able…” she coughed, “…to do this on my own. I have—I have done this, on my own.”

                “I know, we know you have, Y/N,” Dean said.

                “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have help,” Sam immediately added.

                Sam moved so that he was kneeling right in front of Y/N while Dean cradled her in a seated position. Sam flicked his hair back and leaned over his bleeding friend.

                “Y/N,” Sam said. “You know how many times we’ve bailed each other out. I mean, how many times have I saved Dean, or Dean saved Cas, or both of them saved my ass.”

                “It means,” she whispered, “I’m weak.”

                “What are you saying, ass? That I’m weak?” Dean said, doing his best to sound like he was joking but unable to hide the desperation in his voice. He could feel the weight in his arms becoming heavier.

                “Y/N…” Castiel said.

                Sam moved out of the way for Castiel to take his position.

                “Dean?” Castiel asked, and Dean lifted Y/N so that Castiel could pick her up.

                As soon as Y/N fell limply into Castiel’s arms, her head knocked against his warm chest. Her arm was seething pain, but his light, feathery scent dampened her discomfort.

                “Castiel…” Y/N said.

                “We’re going to take care of you, Y/N.”

                Y/N could barely make out their expressions in the night. She saw Cas give Dean a concerned look and then a nod, before craning his neck down to kiss the top of her head. His lips were warm, but rough. Chapped, as always. Despite Castiel’s fading grace, she felt a stirring of warmth in her limbs and heart. Was that his grace, or something else?

                Dean reached over to push the hair from Y/N’s face.

                “We’re gonna get through this, okay? You’re gonna be strong like you always are until we get back to the bunker and we patch you up with the best floss man can buy, got that?”

                Y/N tried to laugh, but the pain rolled in her stomach.

                “Dean, stop,” Castiel growled.

                “You’re going to be alright, Y/N,” Sam said, reaching over to wipe the blood that had trickled down her collarbone with the sleeve of his jacket. It smeared red across her chest, but the firm strength of his arm seemed to wear off on Y/N’s resolve.

                “Take care… of me…” she said, a small smirk ticking up on her face.

                “We will always,” Castiel paused, “ take care of you, Y/N.”

                And with that, Castiel carrying Y/N in his arms, Team Free Will walked out of the barn and into the moonlight, walking swiftly to the Impala and thinking of all the reasons they would make up to be by her side for the upcoming days of slow healing.


	2. You Don't Have to Tell Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're out shopping for cars for Castiel with your brothers, Sam and Dean, when suddenly a hot topic comes up. That topic? Sex.

                “I still think that this is unnecessary,” Castiel said as he looked nervously around the car dealer parking lot.

                It was a warm, overcast Sunday, which you had chosen to avoid the salesmen that usually hunted the automobile grounds during the week.

                “Nonsense,” you said. “You’re never going to pick up girls in that… that _crappy_ Continental.”

                Castiel froze for a moment and watched both of the Winchesters peer into the front seat of a sleek, black car, and watched the clouds that reflected in the vehicles darkened windows.

                “You think—you think it’s crappy?”

                “Dude,” Dean said, stepping back from the car. “It’s a _Continental_.”

                “I don’t—“

                “It’s not a reference, Cas,” Sam said. “It’s just that if you want a girl, you’re going to need a better ride. That’s all.”

                Castiel squinted and looked over the gleaming tops of minted cars.

                “I never said I wanted a girl,” he said.

                “Of course you do,” you chimed in, coming over to place a hand on the angel’s shoulder.

                He turned to look at you with his thoughtful eyes, doubt flashing in his gaze.

                “If you get a girl, you can go on dates. You’d like that, yeah? Going out to restaurants and movies and stuff?”

                Cas seemed to consider this, but before he could respond, Dean butted right back in.

                “Look who’s talking,” Dean said.

                You snapped your head to Dean with your hand still on Castiel’s shoulder.

                “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

                “You know what I mean. When is the last time you went on a date?”

                “Oh, you _want_ me to go on a date?“  you snapped at your brother.

                “That’s not what I said,” Dean quipped over his shoulder as he studied another car.

                “Dean, come on,” Sam said, holding a _really?_ hand out to his brother.

                “You know, I don’t have to tell you everything,” you said, letting your hand slip from Cas’s shoulder and your mind slip back to the last night you spent with Jason and the feeling of silk sheets across your calves.

                “Yeah, you don’t,” Dean started. “Whatever, but—“

                He stopped short.

                If there was one thing you were bad at, it was hiding emotions.

                If no one mentioned the subject, it would be easy to play off. You can keep your head on straight if no one is expecting anything. But if someone brings something up, you’ve historically failed nine times out of ten in hiding whatever you felt about it—and you felt how tough it was to hide the shine in your eyes and the smirk that edged into your cheek.

                You wandered over to the black car and looked in. You couldn’t see much, only the reflection of the shifting sky above you, but your head was somewhere else, in a tangle of limbs and love, precisely. And when it was silent for a few more seconds, you stood and turned around.

                Dean’s face was painted in horror as if he’d just seen his grandfather drop his drawers in the supermarket. Sam… Sam looked to be the epitome of the word _disbelieving_.

                You twisted your brows in confusion, glanced at Cas (aimlessly wandering through the adjacent cars), and shook your head at your brothers.

                “What?” you asked.

                “What did you _do_?” Dean asked.

                “What?” you echoed.

                “You did—you did something,” Sam said, drawing closer until he was next to you. “What did—did you—did you—“

                “Sam!” you pleaded.

                “Y/N, who was it? What did you do?”

                You put up your hands in a silent plea.

                “It—it was no one!” you lied.

                “Who was it?” Dean asked, sounding angry now.

                “I know who it was, Dean. It was—“

                “NO,” you snapped at Castiel.

                “Cas,” Dean said.

                “Castiel,” you warned back, eying the angel with a pointed stare.

                This seemed to startle Cas and he quickly turned tail and began to weave through the cars in the farther lane.

                “Y/N, you tell me what happened, and you tell me right now,” Dean said.

                “I thought we went through this, that I don’t have to tell you everything.”

                “I take it back,” he said.

                You stood there, the heat flooding your skin. You wished you could take your jacket off but they were right there, breathing down your neck, waiting for you to spill your guts.

                And something inside you just snapped.

                “Fine. I’ve been having sex.”

                The horror face. It was back. Dean shook his head as if a friend had just betrayed him.

                Sam looked shocked, but then gave a small huff and tried to compose himself.

                “Y/N,” Sam started, “since when? I mean… who is it? Who is this guy?”

                “He’s fine, Sam,” you said.

                “I know, I believe you. I do. It’s just… we have to be careful. More careful than others, you know? And I mean… “

                He seemed to lose his train of thought here. He looked at you wide-eyed and then his eyebrows sloped and he looked like a hurt puppy.

                Dean was still giving you the look a stranger gets when they bump into you on the sidewalk.

                “Can you just—can you just relax?” you pleaded. “He’s a nice guy. A really nice guy, as a matter of fact.”

                “What’s his name?” Sam asked.

                You contemplated the answer. You knew as soon as they got the name, Sam would run a full background check and Dean would carve his initials into a bullet for the Colt.

                “Do you really need to know?” I lamented.

                “Yes,” Dean pushed.

                “No,” Sam said.

                “Guys, I found a car that I might—“

                “NO,” the brothers shouted back to Cas at once.

                The poor angel looked defeated and confused and turned to walk back through the Toyotas and Hondas.

                After what felt like a long, awkward Sex Ed moment, Sam shifted his feet and then opened his mouth. He did this a few times before actually managing to speak:

                “Did you—did you use protection?”

                “Oh, _god_!” you whined. “Seriously? _Seriously_?”

                “It’s important!” Sam said.

                “It’s important that I get a name so I can get my gun,” Dean said.

                “Dean, come on,” you said. “This is ridiculous. I’m clearly of age, smart enough to use _protection_ ,” you glared at your taller brother, “and emotionally mature enough to not have to tell _every one_ of my _escapades_ ,” you said, glaring at your other brother.

                “It’s true,” Castiel said, attracting the attention of all of you. “Y/N is clearly of age, she used protection, and I don’t believe she told anyone.”

                It was your turn to be shocked.

                Did he just say _you used protection_? As in he _knew_?

                “Cas,” Dean said, but you stole the show immediately.

                “Cas, how do you—did you—“

                “What the hell is wrong with you!” Dean shouted.

                “What?” Cas said, giving his overwhelmed glances as he normally did.

                “How the fuck do you know—“

                “Oh, I was cleaning,” Cas said. “I’ve been cleaning, like you suggested, Dean, to keep myself busy during the afternoons. And, on Wednesday I was making Y/N’s bed and I noticed that there was an open box of condoms in your draw—“

                “ _Why_ are you looking in my _drawers_ , Castiel?”

                “I thought you may have those small clips to keep down the fitted sheets. I just thought—“

                “Nevermind,” you said. “Guys, listen. I—“

 

                “We’re sorry, Y/N,” Sam quickly added.

                You looked up at Sam, his eyes looking dark in the shadows of the sky, but his words feeling real and genuine. You looked at your brother for a long moment before Sam broke the stare and elbowed Dean in the ribs.

                “God—what—“

                “ _Dean_.”

                “Yeah. I’m… I’m sorry, Y/N. This is just… this is weird for me, okay?” Dean said.

                “And me, too,” Sam echoed. “And, I mean, this is good. You found someone. That’s great.”

                You could feel the _but_ coming so you waited.

                “It’s just,” Sam said, “we want to make sure you’re safe. We want to make sure that this guy, whoever he is, is good for you, that he deserves you, you know? We want to know that this guy is a good one, because there are plenty out there that _aren’t_.”

                “That’s for damn sure,” Dean said. “We take those sons-of-a-bitches out every day.”

                “You think I don’t know that? Jason isn’t like that,” you said, immediately realizing the token you had just given freely to your curious brothers.

                “Jason?” Sam said. “Like… Jason Bingham?”

                The flush zinged across your cheeks.

                Dean gave a cocky nod and took out his cell phone.

                “Wait,” you said. “Can you just… at least wait until we can do this in person? Please?”

                You let your round eyes glow in the afternoon light, hoping it would work.

                Dean gave a long, slow sigh.

                “Fine,” he squawked.

                “Thank you,” you said with a huge exhale.

                “But this week, please?” Sam asked.

                You shook your head but means yes.

                “Yes, Sam,” you said. “This week. Fine.”

                This seemed to appease your brothers, at least for a little while. They sighed again. They collected themselves, nodded and started to inch back toward the cars to re-analyze options for their Continental driving friend. It was another moment or two before Castiel came back over to the group looking thoroughly confused.

                When you spotted his visage, you mirrored his confused look. Both your brothers turned to the angel.

                “Will the Continental get me a date with a male?”

                Dean visibly gawked. Sam leaned forward in disbelief.

                You stared, expecting an explanation, when Sam spoke:

                “Cas, why would you—“

                “Well, you said it wouldn’t get me girls, but… Y/N has been in the back seat with her male friend on a few nightly occasions.”

                Both brothers swiveled their heads toward you slowly. You simply put your hands up in surrender and thought to yourself, defiant and with a smirk _, I don’t have to tell you everything._

               

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and Kudos are super appreciated. I will respond to all! :) Many thanks!


	3. A Thursday in October (Thanksgiving Special)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is a little thing I wrote on Thanksgiving night about the boys making the best of what they have for Thanksgiving. Things are never ideal in life, but it's what you make out of what you have, the appreciation for what and who matters, that make the day worth celebrating.
> 
> Cheers!

A Thursday in October

 

There is a luggage case stand topped with an upside down coffee tray. It’s been pulled up next to a small laminate table in the center of a closet scented hotel room, and the light that comes from the beside sconces casts steady shadows behind the rotisserie chickens, both still in their black plastic bases, acting as the centerpiece for this less-than-ideal Thursday in November.

 

“Well… _cheers_ , guys,” Dean says in between the spaces of the _pop-pish_ sounds he makes opening the beer bottles. “And I say that with holiday tradition, and not, actual, you know, cheer.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel says with a tilt of his head.

 

“No, no, come on. Let’s not sugar coat this,” Dean says. “Let’s be honest, and let’s be drinking,” he finishes with a wave of his bottle in the air in mock salute. He sits down on the beer cooler and shimmies it up to the tables where Sam and Castiel are already seated on the two wooden chairs.

 

“Could be worse,” Sam says, slicing into the chickens in front of them.

 

“I’m—,” Castiel starts with a shifty eye scan, “I’m assuming the traditions of Thanksgiving usually bring up more… unpleasant memories. For the both of you.”

 

“Yeah, unpleasant is a word for it,” Dean says, eating the microwaved mashed potatoes directly from the large plastic popcorn bowl.

 

Sam serves the thickly sliced meat both to his brother and the de-powered angel before filling his own plate, but glances up at Dean after he hears his remark.

 

“Couldn’t really be unpleasant if it didn’t happen,” he says.

 

“I didn’t mean to darken the mood,” the angel says, interlacing his hands in his lap below the eye-line of the brothers. “I just wanted to say… I’m grateful. For you,” he says, first glancing at Dean, then at Sam. “Both of you.”

 

It’s Dean who immediately quips, mouth half full, “We’re happy you’re here, too, buddy.”

 

“No, I don’t just mean for being here. I mean, I—“

 

But Castiel seems to have lost the ability to finish his thoughts, and Dean doesn’t press him. Sam keeps quiet, his eyes downcast, focusing on eating and nothing else.

 

The room is silent aside from the artificial scrape of plastic forks on paper plates and chewing. The only shadows that dance are of arms moving. Everything else is still. Even the oils that run off the sides of the chicken seem to hold their breath.

 

Cas stares at the untouched food before him.

 

“Thank you,” Cas says, hands still folded.

 

“You’re welcome, Cas. Now eat up, before the food gets cold.”

 

Dean says it a bit clipped, without making eye contact, but Castiel receives it warmly. The angel nods, a half a smirk blinking on his face, and picks up his utensils.

 

It’s a long time before anyone speaks. There is eating, there is drinking, and there is a lot of thinking that goes unspoken, as it always does among the three hunters not so used to being open and honest, even when it’d be well received. And after the bones of the bird stick open into the air, and there are more than a half-dozen beer caps on the worn carpet beneath them, it’s Castiel who breaks the silence.

 

“I made dessert.”

 

“I appreciate you, Cas,” Dean says and reaches over to slap a hand to his blue-eyed friend’s shoulder.

 

“Cherry pie, of course,” the angel adds.

 

“That’s really great of you, Cas. Thank you,” Sam says, wiping his mouth with a napkin and nodding his head in thanks.

 

“It’s my pleasure. And, I also brought some additional post-meal snacks. I didn’t know if you had any dessert traditions,” Cas started, shifting uncomfortably in the creaking chair, “so I wasn’t sure what else to make, but—“

 

“If it goes good with cheap whiskey, it’s the perfect after dinner snack,” Dean says.

 

“Really,” Sam says, now looking more alive and attentive than before, “you’re the best, Cas. Thanksgiving meals without pie—“

 

“That’d make it unpleasant,” Dean finishes, receiving a half-smile from his taller brother.

 

“I brought honey comb.”

 

The eyebrows of both Winchester’s flick up at the same moment, and Castiel’s wandering eyes land on Dean, who stares back at him with his pink lips pursed like an open bow.

 

It’s difficult to see in the light of the hotel, but Castiel can make out the light pink cheeks of Dean Winchester, ruddy from the Winger Ale, and the heavy food, and the tolls the road trips have taken on him after so many years calling the Impala home.  

 

There’s a round, pregnant moment where no one speaks, but the air is filled with the edge of laughter and a feeling none of the boys have felt in too many long months.

 

It’s Dean who finally says, “that’s great, Cas,” and the sincerity doesn’t have to be verified, because both of the brothers know by the great seraph’s prideful nod that although the angel might not have the capability to use human language to convey just how much he appreciates them, a slice from his own little heaven shared among them is more than the gratitude any of them could ever hope to receive.

 

Sam pushes back from the table and picks up both his and Dean’s plate to throw away while Dean’s gaze lingers on Castiel for just a few more moments then he tries to ration himself to. But the swish of the plates in the garbage can, and the creak of the wooden chair bring them back to the present, away from each other’s eyes.

 

Dean shrugs his shoulders and lends Castiel a bashful smile before speaking.

 

“I’ll get the whiskey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on the Tumblr. (10strawberryjam)

**Author's Note:**

> If you can, please comment or leave Kudos! (Even if Anon!) It really makes me feel great to get feedback for my writing. Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)


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